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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175015">Falling Without Knowing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJohhnyMckiltProductions/pseuds/TheJohhnyMckiltProductions'>TheJohhnyMckiltProductions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drama &amp; Romance, Hopeful Ending, Human &amp; Country Names Used (Hetalia), Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Memory Related, Post-Apocalypse, Science Fiction, Space Opera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJohhnyMckiltProductions/pseuds/TheJohhnyMckiltProductions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>The 10th Anniversary Remaster</strong>
</p><p>Following the end of the world and humanity's exodus, the nations are living on their own planets, united under one galaxy. By strict decree, they are unable to see or travel to each other and any sort of communication is under the Council's heavy surveillance.</p><p>New Greece is bothered by the memories of his former self, especially those of a certain island nation. He is willing to break boundaries, cross time and space to know if a connection between them still exists.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greece/Japan (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. your vinyl on laminate (desperate for some kind of contact)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you Rose, for being my beta all those years ago 💕</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>New Greece begins another day. He makes what will be one of his most important trips to the Library and we find out how their world began.</p><p>🎵 Listening:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MYa0_3Py6U">Imogen Heap - First Train Home</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVk4vENObiI">Enrique Iglesias - Heartbeat ft. Nicole Scherzinger</a></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's ten years past Feb. 3, 2011 when I posted Chapter 1 of this story on Lj. A lot's happened! I got to go to Athens on a little holiday after I graduated uni. I've been living &amp; working in Japan for the past five years. For myself &amp; this fandom specifically, bridges burnt 😓 Truthfully, a part of me has been wistful &amp; regretful I didn't cross-post my stories back then. Hear's to the start of me doing so better late than never!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>It was written long ago<br/>It was not for me to know<br/>Repeat that memory, I believe.</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p><span class="big"><span class="big"><span class="big">A</span></span></span>straios rose over the horizon of New Greece, scattering the dawn atmosphere orange. Evening would return in four Earth hours, then the star would rise again and complete another cycle. It did not mean that days ran past them, however. The Council had decreed that all nation-planets retain twenty-four Earth hours as the proper day, regardless of how many mornings or evenings they would see.</p><p>Breakfast in starry Thessaloniki while Athens saw daylight during theirs took some getting used to. In fact, the people should be used to it. Five generations have passed since the first Greek immigrants from Earth evolved and adapted to their planet's environmental conditions. Granted, five generations wasn't remarkably long for any nation and Herakles Karpusi, personification and Head of New Greece, answerable to the Council for whatever his nation-planet did, still had a lot of work to do before he could say he was comfortable living in another galaxy.</p><p>Herakles sat up in bed, squinting at the bright daylight streaming through his square window. His house stood on the highest point of Santorini City. From where he was, he could see a quaint sprawl of blue roofs and whitewashed houses adorned with an assortment of the planet's flora and the occasional laundry hanging from a clothesline. Cobbled, winding walkways led to lively market streets, which swelled into the roads of a bustling metropolis. Beyond the meek rise of schools, offices and commercial buildings lay the sea.</p><p>It was a shallow, humble sea, mind you. There weren't a lot of creatures there that the people could make a living out of. All the city mayors had agreed they'd make do with raising New Livestock and local vegetation. The atmosphere of New Greece was thin, but Herakles knew his people were only trying to bring back the culture and ways of life their ancestors had been forced to relinquish in exchange for survival.</p><p>He crossed his bedroom on the way to the bathroom and there washed his face and his privates before wrapping a towel across his waist. It was then when Corporal Cat returned from her nightly hunt through the open door of the living room. Her paws were silent as still air but Herakles' hearing was keen.</p><p>"<em>Good morning, Corporal,</em>" he greeted on his way to the kitchen.</p><p>"<em>Good morning, Herakles,</em>" she replied and rubbed affectionately against this legs.</p><p>He petted her. "<em>How's the weather?</em>"</p><p>"<em>Hot as always. Are you going out?</em>" Corporal asked, watching as Herakles prepared a bowl of milk for her before getting his own breakfast.</p><p>"<em>Just to the Library.</em>"</p><p>She gave him a look. "<em>This time wear a shirt at least,</em>" she said before drinking from her dish.</p><p>The Erin!ŋao were the predominant species living on the planet before the first settlers arrived. They resembled large, hairless tigers but often acted like domesticated cats. They had a culture and language of their own which only Herakles could understand because even if the New Greeks had been genetically patterned after them, their bodies had not been fashioned from the land itself. They co-habited peacefully, as the community was adamant not to disturb the existing nature of the planet. Erin!ŋao reserves were vast and taken care of by what were now locals. The Erin!ŋao themselves paid New Greeks very little mind, with the exception of their Matriarch, who happened to be very fond of Herakles.</p><p>Breakfast was composed of a humble slice of home baked bread and local fruit jam. Herakles sat in front of the computer on his dining table and switched on the power. A whir like an old car engine in the wrong gear came from the CPU. He sighed, put down his plate, and climbed out the window by the kitchen sink and onto the roof. He righted the energy harnessing panel on its stand, smacked the generator twice and the machine rumbled to life. Satisfied, he climbed back in.</p><p>The bulky desktop sat humming loudly with its moss green wallpaper and antiquated user interface. For all the technology they've developed to get here, this computer at its primitive state had been their best option since the maintenance of similar units across more than a hundred nation-planets with a wide range of unpredictable atmospheric conditions was especially difficult. Herakles wasn't complaining, it had everything he needed. He took a bite out of his breakfast and checked his mail.</p><p>Daily reports from his mayors and various messages from the Council appeared unread. He tackled those from within his planet first. They were small but essential things—weather reports, community activities, business deals and the production and trading of goods (because New Greece wasn't all barren. Rainforests, mountains and plains lay southeast).</p><p>'Good morning, Sir Karpusi! ' read one. 'The Alkaios family of my district is due to receive their great grandfather's memories this week. Also, please be reminded that schools 158 and 159 await their input of 17th century Earth Greece history. We plan to have film showings. '</p><p>'Good morning, Sir Karpusi! ' read another. 'The weather here is sunny and the humidity moderate. The Giorgos farmers have successfully developed a strain for white onions. We shall inform you when they will be suitable for cultivation. ' Herakles sent a thanks in reply and took note of what he needed to pick up at the Library, then ploughed through the rest of the reports without much fuss.</p><p>Emails from the Council were different. It can be said that they were international mail nation-planets sent to each other through the Council since direct correspondence was strictly forbidden.</p><p>'Tomatoes! " read a subject line, mail from a certain Antonio Carriedo, personification and Head of New Spain. 'We've finally grown our first batch! Can you believe it? I'll be able to eat real tomatoes soon! If they're successful, we'll ship you a crate! '</p><p>Herakles smiled and typed a reply. Greek was automatically encoded into Spanish. 'Won't that take lightyears? Or are your tomatoes designed for long storage time? If so, we'll be waiting. We have yet to grow our own. The planet may be too dry. Wish us luck! ' He pressed 'send' and switched off his computer. The other mail could wait. It was nine in the morning and the Library would be opening soon.</p><p>He left his towel on a dining chair and as promised, grabbed a shirt from his dresser and put it on. He gave a sleeping Corporal a pat on the head and left his house. The ground was cool from the evening chill but the air already warm. He wore sandals just in case it would be too hot to walk home barefoot. The market on the main street was already busy.</p><p>Vendors called out to customers and showcased their wares—vegetables, fruit and grain came cheap. Meat from New Livestock and seafood from other cities cost a bit more. Spices remained the most expensive. Aside from food, there were also stalls selling clothes, footwear and household gadgets designed to ease chores, stalls with generators and energy harnessing panels, stalls with toys for children and stalls that sold specialty items like liquor, candy and coffee beans.</p><p>Some New Greek men in only jeans came carrying crates of more wares. Shouts of surprise rose over calls to buy when the occasional clumsy tail knocked over things. Bicycle-cabs lined up at a terminal beside the market entrance, where drivers waited for shoppers who needed a ride home.</p><p>"Sir Karpusi!" greeted one of them. He only wore a pair of slippers and had a small towel over his shoulder. "Where to today?"</p><p>"The Library," Herakles replied conversationally. "On foot, I'm afraid," he added with a smile and a wave of his hand as the driver poised to pedal from his post.</p><p>"Alright. Take care, sir!" he answered good-naturedly and at his call, several shoppers and vendors going about their daily chores turned to send him similar greetings. Herakles gave them small hellos as he passed by and exchanged news and a joke or two with acquaintances he saw along his way.</p><p>The Library was an immense marble structure reminiscent of the Parthenon. It stood on a hill removed from the city and seemed to rise from the buzz of traffic and conversation like a temple or a mortuary. In some ways, it was.</p><p>Herakles crossed the high-ceilinged hall illuminated yellow by light pouring in from huge sun windows and chandeliers in between rows and rows of shelves and reading areas. Four or five groups of people were comfortably settled on couches. The entire ground floor was dedicated to all the publications salvaged before the Earth's collapse. They were stored in Memory Sheets that were inserted into devices called Readers whenever one wished to view them. Actual books with paper pages and bindings lay in the Reserved Area, preserved the best they could and accessible to those who had gained strict permission to handle them. Printing had yet to catch up in the nation-planet. The only print media in circulation so far were newspapers.</p><p>"Good morning, Sir Karpusi," greeted the head librarian when he reached the Information Desk. "What can we do for you today?"</p><p>"I need a couple of Butterflies, Chryssa. Alkaios from city 3 district 17 and some of mine."</p><p>She nodded and began typing on the computer in front of her. "We'll open the Cages for you," she said with a smile and Herakles gave his thanks.</p><p>On either side of the Information Desk were two grand staircases leading to the second floor. He climbed one, feeling comfort in the cool marble railings under his palms. Compared to the ground floor, this area was entirely devoid of people, even staff. None of them had any particular reason to come up here. This floor was mostly Herakles' domain. After all, it contained the whole of Greece, preserved in memories.</p><p>The hall was quiet save for the familiar tinkling tune of a huge diorama suspended from the ceiling.</p><p>In its center was the Earth, as blue and green as it was over a millennia ago, titled just so and spinning slowly. Below it was a colorful scattering of some two hundred tiny planets amongst glittering gas and crumpled space debris. A polyfiber model of the Council's Shangri La lay in the middle, the whole display a stark reminder of how one globe dispersed into many to ensure the survival of the human legacy, no matter how far apart and different they've all become to do so.</p><p>Herakles' last memories on Earth were the ones he first returned to his consciousness once his own planet had given him a new body.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>During October of the year 3999, astronomical institutes in Canada and India were finally able to predict the exact period of the Sun's collapse, which was three months into the new year. Earth and the other planets were to be thrown off their orbits and either collide into each other or spin indefinitely into space. It was before that time humankind must be able to evacuate.</p><p>None of the Heads of State were in a particular panic. Scholars had it coming for a century now and their studies for the past several decades had prepared everyone for the worst.</p><p>On the twenty-fourth of that month, the UN Peace Congress met in New York. All the nations and their Heads of State had been present for the news. Russia's scouts had returned from their thirty year voyage in search for habitable terrain with promising results. Six hundred lightyears away was an immense galaxy of over three thousand, self-sustaining planets, each with their own stars and satellites. Thirty percent of them were gaseous, a wary five percent on the verge of ending but the rest very capable of life. It took twelve years to get there on warp speed 5 and a mere four on warp speed 9.</p><p>"That…that's fantastic!" America had exclaimed, pleasant disbelief morphing into wild hope. "Do we just go there? Like move everyone and settle?" His star-faring ships could very well go over warp speed 13.</p><p>At this, the heads of Project Satellite (as the expedition was called) exchanged uneasy glances. They browsed through the photos the scouts had brought back and flashed them on the screen.</p><p>"It's not so simple, sir," one of them said, pointing to a barrage of planets, all different sizes and colors. "Each inhabitable planet is only about two to five million square kilometers. Their atmospheric conditions and planetary climate differ hugely from one another and all of them have their own sophisticated ecosystems. We humans can't hope to live in any of these planets unless we evolve and adapt."</p><p>The conference hall broke out in murmurs. A few Heads of State argued with their interpreters at what they were hearing. All over the world, people watching the live broadcast paid a little more attention to their televisions.</p><p>"What do you propose then?" asked an elderly scientist seated among a panel of judges.</p><p>"If we may," answered another Project Satellite Head. "We've brought back DNA of the species dominant in each of three hundred sample planets. If we genetically modify the next generation with one of these DNA and have them live on the same planet where the DNA originated, they'd be able to survive."</p><p>"So you're saying we start from scratch?" England said. "We leave everyone and everything humanity's ever achieved to perish while a handful go live in another galaxy?"</p><p>There was an angry uproar from the congregation. There were heated discussions about whose next generation should be genetically enhanced and what should happen with everyone they'd leave behind.</p><p>"No, sir," answered Project Satellite. "In actuality, we have a complete proposal in mind. Please listen and consider it."</p><p>The hall fell silent. And with each word spoken, tension hung heavier in the air. The expressions on people's faces changed from curious to skeptical to shocked and split between 'these people are insane, we're all going to die' and 'this is brilliant, crazy but brilliant.'</p><p>"Each planet in our 300 sample has its own sun, which it revolves around. In a sense, all of them exist in their own solar systems. These mini solar systems are scattered across the galaxy and because of considerable lightyears between each, they are not in danger of colliding.</p><p>"It is very possible that each of these planets serve as one country. Think about it, ladies and gentlemen. We get volunteer families from each country, alter their genes and distribute them among all the sample planets. Their offspring will naturally evolve and adapt. They won't have to build their culture and history from scratch or forget anything we've ever done for that matter. Everything they need to know about their country, their language, architecture and history will be passed on through Butterflies."</p><p>"The memory-etch screens?" India asked, his scientists having invented the devices.</p><p>"Yes, sir. If everyone on Earth had their own Butterflies, we can bring those instead along with all the material resources we can save and store. That way, no one would have to be afraid of not having anything to pass on. We will be able to keep living through the next generation."</p><p>Now, Butterflies were curious things. They were first manufactured in the 3700s for the storage and transfer of people's consciousnesses when clones and androids were all the rage. They had been extremely expensive to make and when cheaper alternatives using a mix of metal alloys were produced, they had long gone out of style. Not a lot of people had uses for memory storages when there were easier, more accessible gadgets available.</p><p>Butterflies were as large as a person's palm. In each wing stretched fine, delicate veins reminiscent of those on dried leaves. On those veins were memories etched by lasers from a memory extracting helmet worn by the person using the Butterfly. The user can choose to retain or erase the memory that was stored and a single Butterfly could hold as much memories as a person made in a lifetime. Butterflies were stored in thick glass cases called Cages and were never taken out of them, since they disintegrated when left exposed to air. Special Readers were needed to access them. A primitive plug was attached to the Cage and its blunt end only needed to make contact with a person's skin. The Butterflies memories could then be read, watched, heard or felt as if they were freshly conceived.</p><p>"That could work," Germany said.</p><p>"I agree," China added, quite keen on preserving a rich culture of over seven millennia.</p><p>"If we’ve got manufacturing plants stationed everywhere, we’d be able to cover more ground," America said. "We could finish a city in two days. Everyone on the Register will have their own Butterflies!"</p><p>"Absolutely everyone?" Cameroon asked solemnly. Zimbabwe straightened in her seat.</p><p>"Of course," America replied, appealing to the conference hall. "I mean, this is the last investment we'll ever make here, so why not give it our all?"</p><p>The Heads of State looked at their nations, knowing they were more aware of what their countrymen could do than statistics and surveys could ever hope to tell them. They decided to offer help in any way they could, amongst their final duties to society.</p><p>"We will provide financial assistance," Qatar's Prime Minister said.</p><p>"And I will ask our private sectors to do the same," one of Macau's business advisors added. Steadily and surely, all of the nations and their leaders agreed to cooperate. The humble party of twenty Project Satellite heads were beside themselves with gratitude.</p><p>"Very well," a leading physicist among the panel told the group. "You call the shots, Project Satellite. Tell us what to do."</p><p>November to January of the last recorded Earth year was spent vigorously collecting Butterflies from every single person on the planet, converting everything from history, literature, architecture to plants and pets into data, storing them in Memory Sheets and loading them onto airships that would take them to the Satellite System. Volunteers from every country had been handpicked to be genetically modified and sent to their new home planets.</p><p>The last vestiges of February caught the Earth feeling like a quiet country home, where sunlight streamed through a bedroom vacated by a solemn son off to college. Nostalgia, in the form of precious dust swirling in the hot air danced, disturbed by the chaos of the move. People left behind watched these wonder years, like a picture slideshow making its premier in the mind's eye, through dwindling sunsets and evaporating sea water, through reminiscing with beer and family and friends, through hugs and smiles that belied something deeper and melancholic.</p><p>It was a relief how the public panic wasn't as high as the authorities had anticipated. Granted, there was no shortage of extremist groups from a plethora of religious organizations running rampant and asking for all sorts of second chances. Many families that were interviewed on the news said they could probably face the end easier, since through the Butterflies, they were going to be remembered, or rather, everything that has happened on the planet wasn't going to be swallowed up by time. A lot of youths said they were going to be there to watch the Sun implode. They were going to make the last bit of history on Earth.</p><p>A week before the final day, the heads of Project Satellite asked the nations to create their own Butterflies too.</p><p>"What?" Austria had asked in disbelief. Many of the older nations had prepared to go down with their lands.</p><p>"We need someone to teach the new generation their language, culture and ways of life, what their history on Earth was, what to repeat and not to repeat, what to keep on living for," they answered.</p><p>"Can't they elect leaders for that?" Hungary said.</p><p>"Those families have enough on their plates surviving as it is. Across the galaxy, it will be hard to maintain unity with each other," replied Project Satellite. "While we've decided to oversee and look out for the welfare of all the planets and their people, we can't split ourselves into three hundred to do so. We need men on the ground we can contact. We need headstrong people who can guide these families to adjust to their lives with order."</p><p>France sighed. "How do you plan on transporting us? We aren't human. How are we supposed to evolve like the rest of them?"</p><p>"Exactly what I was going to say," England added. "Once this Earth is gone along with people, unity, and territory, we'll be gone too."</p><p>"This is why we'll be using Butterflies," said one of the project heads. "We'll be transferring and storing all of your memories, your very self, and shipping them along with the rest of the world's. And when your people regain their sense of nationhood, your bodies will be born again out of their collective consciousness, already evolved. Your Butterflies will be returned to you and life goes back to business."</p><p>The statement was met by a stunned congregation. For everything that seemed possible at that point, something didn't feel right with how easy the proposal sounded.</p><p>"Will it work?" Finland asked, doubt clear and high in his voice. "Even amongst ourselves, we can only guess how we came to be."</p><p>"This is how we've hypothesized the mechanisms of your existence. We won't know if it'll work without actually trying…"</p><p>And in that moment, between millennia old nations and a group of young, brilliant minds with the slightest pleas and hesitation in their voices, they realized they were all gambling with a thousand odds against them and the stakes larger than they had ever imagined.</p><p>"I'm game," said China and everyone turned to him in surprise. One would think the toll of many years would manifest themselves as wrinkles on his face but they hadn't. Only the depths in his eyes and the green of nerves on the backs of his hands gave any indication of exactly how old he was yet still willing to live a bit longer.</p><p>In sure increments, the other nations gave their consent.</p><p>And so while everyone one on Earth climbed on their rooftops, met everyone they needed to meet and wanted to meet, said their hellos and goodbyes and made all sorts of amends, ate their last meals and laughed as if there wasn't eternity nor death between them, all the nations had their consciousnesses stored and geared for space travel.</p><p>It was a curious sensation Herakles wasn't sure if he wanted to experience again. His self was peeled away in quiet layers and as the new memories fell away like book leaves, unearthed were old feelings. Old wounds were hacked afresh, first times relived, small precious moments revisited and he found himself dragged back into falling in love.</p><p>The last memory that flashed behind his closed eyes was that of being cradled in strong arms (the name and face of his mother already etched and filed), the smell of honey bread from the gentle swell of warm breasts, the sound of crashing waves and a cool breeze from the sea. Strains of what felt to him like a lullaby faded off into the dulcet distance.</p><p>(The heads of Project Satellite who had personally conducted the extractions from the nations noted that most if not all had unconsciously cried, more than a few lashed out and had to be restrained and many of them called out like children unable to wake up from nightmares.)</p><p>(The most fantastic phenomena they reported before they had their own consciousnesses stored, for they were soon to be known as the Council, was during the very last day, after lining up mere shells of once great nation men under the expanding sun. One after the other, the bodies went up in bright lights and vanished, as the boundaries that made their flesh and bone melted away, as all of humanity met the end of the world as one.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Herakles pulled out the Butterfly he was looking for and closed the filing cabinet. It locked with a beep. He looked at the stored lifetime of one person gleaming behind its glass Cage before tucking it under his arm like a folder. He then entered a smaller room, the size of a technician's booth in the cinema, and put it down on a small table beside a lone couch. This room was his and all four walls were shelves packed with his own Butterflies.</p><p>He'd seen them all once after his return as New Greece, but he had yet to fully re-experience all of them. Like wine, he chose and savored a few memories at a time, usually from one period in his life or about one person.</p><p>Try as he might, Herakles couldn’t seem to fit well with such memories. He knew very well the Greece on Earth wasn't supposed to be very different from the Greece in his own planet, but he couldn't help but feel how foreign it was to be embodying the memories of a past he couldn't quite relate to as well as he probably would have had he been in his old body.</p><p>It was like studying himself through the wrong end of a telescope. If he could properly place a finger on this unsettling feeling, it would be something like this: He knew he disliked Turkey. He could feel the hate oozing from his brain down to his clenched fists at the sight of the man's name, but deep in his new self, he never hated Turkey to begin with. This new body did not know of the wars that scarred the old one, the hands that caressed it, nature's wrath it withstood, the heat, the sickness, the pleasure and everything his memories had been made with.</p><p>Herakles felt that his own memories were telling him who to be and he wasn't very comfortable with that. He often wondered if his fellow Satellite Nations felt the same and hoped they didn't.</p><p>Today, he wanted a bunch of memories he had been apprehensive to touch since he first arrived. They weren't collected in entire Butterflies but instead dispersed among a good number, as if meetings with the person prominent in them were few and far between, but of the utmost intimacy.</p><p>What Herakles didn't want was to betray himself if he found out he couldn't bring himself to live up to what he used to feel. Because of this fear, he'd rather watch these memories in the comforts of his home. He took the chosen Butterflies from their shelves, placed them on a careful stack along with the one he had brought in and left to have them checked out at the Information Desk.</p><p>"Here you go, Sir Karpusi," the librarian said cheerfully. "Please return the Alkaios files within the next month. Yours may be returned at any time." Her eyes fell on their labels and she smiled. "Japan this time, is it?"</p><p>"Yes," Herakles replied with a nod of thanks. "I can't seem to recall his name and it's bothering me."</p><p>"Well I hope your Butterflies hold the answers, sir," she said kindly. "Take care on your way home."</p><p>And with that, Herakles left the Library.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>tbc</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. darling (what are you doing?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Herakles tries to distract himself from the confusion he feels about his memories of Japan.</p><p>🎵 Listening:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PlmM1b4xn5Q">Frou Frou - Shh</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvdzKHhgANA">Frou Frou - Let Go</a></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's National Foundation Day here in Japan! I'm planning to match the upload dates of each chapter to ten years ago, so the next update will be on the 19th. The inspiration for this entire story was <a href="https://cantautore.livejournal.com/2716.html">darkhue's Giripan FST, transcontinental</a>. Thank you to new and old readers enjoying this story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
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  </p>
  <p><em>The feeling was psychic, passing through, electric<br/></em> <em>My palm against your fingers, pressing needles through my wrist<br/>Hearts meet, though we didn't speak of those things</em></p>
</div><p> </p><p><span class="big"><span class="big"><span class="big">C</span></span></span>orporal Cat awoke to the living room baked warm by the evening starlight and the sound of furious typing coming from the kitchen. She got to her feet and took a peek.</p><p>Herakles sat in front of his computer with only a pair of reading glasses on. The Butterflies he had borrowed from the Library were scattered on the dining table. Cables and plugs he'd used to view them lay in a tangled heap. A dirty dinner plate was stashed in the sink.</p><p>"<em>Hera?</em>" Corporal asked. "<em>What are you still doing? It's late.</em>"</p><p>True enough, despite the sky, the clock read 1:25am.</p><p>"<em>It's…</em>" Herakles leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. "<em>It's nothing important,</em>" he said and returned to his work, completely negating the non-urgency of his occupation.</p><p>Corporal Cat made a gesture of nonchalance before sitting by his chair and washing herself. Usually she did not care much for the affairs of humans, but she was very fond of Herakles. She also knew very well what he was doing. He was trying to break through security the Council had heaped on the planet. This security prevented anyone from viewing space outside their planets and Herakles' hobby was mapping the stars.</p><p>He had told her once that it was therapeutic, like cooking on Sunday mornings, cross-stitching or jogging at the park. Corporal wasn't sure what that meant, but she did notice how he only worked excessively after viewing his Butterflies. She couldn't comprehend what in those things bothered Herakles so much and could only imagine what went on inside his head. She wouldn't be too surprised if the man often wanted to escape such chaos.</p><p>"<em>You'd better stop that</em>," Corporal said. "<em>What if the Council catches you?</em>"</p><p>"<em>They don't care what I do within my country</em>," Herakles replied, not looking up from typing. "<em>Besides, this is for my own personal…recreation</em>."</p><p>Corporal Cat sighed and settled comfortably between his legs. Yet another firewall popped up on the computer screen and Herakles swore under his breath. Indeed, breaking through Council security had potentially disastrous consequences but the danger and guesswork were thrilling.</p><p>The Council was none other than the leaders of Project Satellite whose Butterflies were never placed in bodies of their own. They remained wired to their ship, the Shangri La, and as promised, oversaw the entire Satellite System. They had a solid set of rules that were relatively easy to keep.</p><ol>
<li>Everyone within the System should know of its history as well as that of their own nation.</li>
<li>Everyone within the System learned about the existences of other nation-planets and studied their culture as they would have on Earth. Direct contact or travel anywhere outside one's respective nation-planet was strictly forbidden and interplanetary communication was under heavy surveillance. (According to them, the hazard of direct contact was like sending an Earth astronaut to the Moon without a space suit.)</li>
</ol><p>The Council however, was lenient with affairs inside a planet. All they needed from the nations were regular reports on how their planets were, but how they'd run it was entirely up to them—if and when they'd impart their Butterflies, what they chose to build or reinvent to make adapting easier among other things. The logic behind this was that if one country led itself to destruction, the others wouldn't be pulled down.</p><p>It sounded great in theory, but Herakles wasn't sure how long the arrangement would last. Granted, there was cooperation from all the nations because everyone was still busy setting their planets straight. But after all the history had been imparted and their countries running smoothly, what would happen next? He was quite positive there weren't many nations who would be satisfied with just sending emails to each other and he was sure that there were people who wouldn't stop learning about other countries from books alone, especially when the Earth they left had almost all borders open and every culture crisscrossed with the others.</p><p>Three firewalls that suddenly appeared on Herakles' computer screen jolted him from his thoughts. Corporal Cat shifted in her sleep and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before trying out more passwords.</p><p>Herakles didn't want to think he was in a rebellious phase. He simply wanted to view more of the world outside his country and map it. He wasn't sure why this particular occupation exactly. He was driven by an unnamed fascination and the need to have his questions answered. Which questions exactly, he couldn't say, and only hoped it would be a lot.</p><p>In a minimized window was a pixelated sketch like an unfinished MSPaint file of what surrounded his planet 100,000 feet above its atmosphere. He was a little disappointed that he was nowhere near discovering the locations of other planets, let alone knowing how far apart they were from each other (not that knowing was his goal, maybe).</p><p>A merry ding chimed from the computer.</p><p>"I'm in!" Herakles exclaimed, waking Corporal Cat up. "Today's password was harder to figure out."</p><p>She looked at him typing with renewed fervor before walking away to settle by the kitchen doorway instead. "<em>Be careful with that hobby of yours. Don't password changes mean your Council knows their security's being breached?</em>"</p><p>"<em>Not really,</em>" Herakles replied. "<em>All the security passwords change every day. I guess it's protocol.</em>"</p><p>The window that maximized on his screen was not the view of the sky outside his planet. It was an endless scroll of numbers, representations of signals that bounced off space and solid objects such as meteors and other space debris. They were encoded as zeroes and solid numbers ranging from one to nine depending on how large or far apart they were. Herakles proceeded to digitally draw these estimates on his unfinished map, like his ancestors long ago who dared make sense of the stars.</p><p>The kitchen was quiet.</p><p>Only the whir of the computer, the clack of the keyboard and occasional clicking punctuated the air. It was comfortable somewhat. He could almost say he was perfectly distracted, if only the slight ache in his chest wasn't persistent and the memories from the Butterflies he recently viewed stopped prickling at the backs of his eyes.</p><p>As Herakles traced Point A to Point B, he realized his first meeting with the nation of Japan wasn't remarkable, nor were the several meetings after that.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong> <span class="u">Butterfly 19 – 1982 Tokyo 08:12 Strengthening cultural ties with Japan</span> </strong>
  </p>
  <p>"You've been on friendly terms since 1899," his Prime Minister says. "Well, it's mostly your scholars who have been interacting. Now that the politics has smoothed over recently, I thought it was time to bring these cultural exchanges to a more engaging level? Not just for political reasons of course. I brought you along because you'd be genuinely interested in what they've shown. You like these things, don't you?"</p>
  <p>In one ear and out the other. Herakles wonders if the man is nervous. After all, they will be meeting with the Prime Minister of Japan.</p>
  <p>There is a quaint crowd milling about the Nippon Budokan. Admission to the Greece-Japan cultural exhibit was free, except for the short plays to be staged later in the evening. The fee is reasonable and anyone interested can watch.</p>
  <p>"Go ahead and have a look around," his Prime Minister says. "I'll call you when it's time for the meeting." And he leaves with his escorts in a worried flourish.</p>
  <p>Herakles stands in the middle of the hall in a country he's never really been to before and decides that these are the times he should shrug and go with the flow. It might lead him somewhere.</p>
  <p>He weaves in and out of the curious mix of art lovers, cultural enthusiasts, scholars, students, families and interested folk. He hears snippets of conversation in a language he doesn't understand and thinks they are pretty sounds.</p>
  <p>And while idling by a display of Japanese swords, he feels something zing through the air, like an electric spark and it resonates in his chest like a gong. It's familiar and Herakles almost laughs out loud. Someone like him is nearby, and it doesn't take three guesses to figure out who.</p>
  <p>On instinct, Herakles seeks this person out and sees him by the travel agency's booth, leafing through a brochure of Crete with the most pensive of faces. He moves closer and the gonging inside him ceases.</p>
  <p>Japan is a beautiful man. Something in his person strikes Herakles as profound. The man is small yet regal and the Greek is drawn to him by a common fondness for meeting nations like himself.</p>
  <p>"Would you like to go there?" he asks in English and Japan jumps in surprise. He wheels around and their eyes meet.</p>
  <p>Something awkward teeters at the edge of a cliff and Herakles isn't quite sure what to do next. He steps back in shock as Japan's low bow almost hits him.</p>
  <p>"Greece-san, it is nice to meet you at last."</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Herakles stopped typing and wondered if he should attribute some sort of significance to their meeting. It was baffling how little emotion there was in the memory. Compared to the long-standing grudges he bore toward some people, the melancholic lurches in his chest triggered by others, immense comfort and homely joy he found in close friends and the general apathy he had for everyone else, these fleeting bouts of happiness shouldn't feel as important as they did. He wouldn't put it past his old self telling him it was exactly because the feeling was so fleeting that made it much more precious.</p><p>Then he'd call his old self ridiculous because there wasn't any point to keep such trivialities in high regard, especially if trivialities were all they were going to be.</p><p>But somewhere at the back of his mind, Herakles heard himself say 'Look at it like rainfall on the desert; you see the sun evaporate all the water on the surface but what you don't see is the water that trickles through the earth. There's a river under there.' He thinks it's unfair, being unable to understand fragments of an entire experience and continues to type furiously.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong> <span class="u">Butterfly 19 – 1985 Delphi-Sparta-Athens 16:42 Visiting week</span> </strong>
  </p>
  <p>He takes him to all the tourist spots because it's the first thing people always want to see. Japan is courteous and drinks in all the stories and history, snapping photos at five minute intervals. Herakles shares his enthusiasm. It's been a while since anyone who wasn't in the profession of enjoying ancient infrastructure lit up in the same way Japan does. Herakles watches him bring a careful hand to old stone in quiet awe and something warm fills his chest.</p>
  <p>"Do you like the ruins?" he asks and Japan nods.</p>
  <p>"There is a certain charm to them," he says. "And their histories are fascinating. It's remarkable how people have built them so large and timeless even with limited resources."</p>
  <p>"Then I'll show you more," Herakles decides and takes Japan's hand. He feels it jerk in his grip. There is heat.</p>
  <p>"Please, you have shown me around so much—"</p>
  <p>"I insist."</p>
  <p>They arrive at his mother's ruins by sunset. There are no excavations being made and the grounds are silent. Herakles slides down a dusty slope and holds Japan as he follows. Together, they walk amongst fallen marble and broken ceramic silhouetted against a spread of orange sky.</p>
  <p>For a long while, it feels like the two of them are the only survivors from the destruction of an old, old world. The earth beneath them breathes and the ruin becomes a sacred place.</p>
  <p>Their hands are still joined.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Herakles meticulously labelled the space rocks he had drawn because he needed to, and it reminded him of how his first conversations with Japan were mostly pleasantries. They were mutually interested in each other's cultures and started out with exchanging stories they may have already known.</p><p>It was funny how the less they talked about themselves, the more they found out about each other. The awkward silences filled with the obligation to keep the conversation going turned into talk of small, everyday things. Looking back on it, Herakles wondered if Japan truly enjoyed their conversations. They would have struck anyone else as shallow.</p><p>He and Japan were weird together, and because they might have missed a step in their relationship or because pleasantries were apparently their prelude to intimacy that they grew closer without making too much effort to bridge their differences.</p><p>Herakles wasn't able to understand how this was either, because he'd technically never met Japan and that was also unfair.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong> <span class="u">Butterfly 20 – 2009 Andalusia 05:03 Jamming during Spain's picnic</span> </strong>
  </p>
  <p>They are intruding on an old grandmother's privacy as they hold one of their regular get togethers in her home at the countryside, courtesy of Spain. She doesn't mind though, and dotes on them.</p>
  <p>"My country is like my favorite grandson," she says as she serves them hot chocolate.</p>
  <p>"Oh abuela!" Spain answers jovially and kisses her cheek.</p>
  <p>Germany, Veneziano and Japan emerge from the kitchen bearing sun-dried tomato pasta, rum cake and onigiri. They gather around the picnic table set up in the garden and Romano pops open a bottle of wine to go with their lunch. Herakles thinks it's amazing, as he serves slices of spinach and feta pizza, that they could sit at table like this and eat, talk and laugh with the ones they love.</p>
  <p>The old grandmother tells them stories of her husband and her children, of bygone years and antiquated cooking methods. Spain reminisces along with her and the Italies animatedly exchange versions of their own. Herakles entertains them with myths and Germany shares the goings-on in his home. Japan quietly listens as they enjoy the food.</p>
  <p>They forgo siesta for a quick trip to the beach. Early evening catches them pink-cheeked and barefoot around a campfire. The basket of fruits and churros has long been eaten and crumbs mingled with sand. Spain and Romano bring out their guitars and strum the chords to a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WER_Rw4Tbv4">song</a> they all know the words to. Germany claps along and Veneziano sings his heart out to the waking stars. Japan hums uncertainly and somewhere between 'esta en mi garganta' and 'te quiero!' Herakles takes his hand to squeeze.</p>
  <p>'Please share this with me,' says the tightening of his fingers.</p>
  <p>The smile Japan gives him in reply fill his heart to bursting.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p><em>It's all foreign</em>, Herakles thought bitterly as his map spread out like the spider web of his thinning patience. Frankly put, he was angry and envious of his old self—angry because he couldn't get into his memories, feel and claim them as his own and envious because he wanted to. He wanted this new body to experience what his memories contained.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong> <span class="u">Butterfly 20 – 2010 Santorini 13:52 Visiting week</span> </strong>
  </p>
  <p>It starts with a survey.</p>
  <p>They pose musings about the world, themselves and their countries and let the conversations take their natural courses. They’ve gotten mad together, named cats together, played hand games and saw tangerines on minarets.</p>
  <p>So as he runs his hands down Japan's sides, feels him pulse and throb around him, tells him to <em>breathe</em> as he tightly grips the sheets and moans the sweetest sounds he's ever heard, Herakles doesn't think this is the same as the other times he's taken lovers. As he feels Japan shudder and drinks in the scent of his hair with every blinding thrust, Herakles knows they now share something more special than anything they have shared in the past.</p>
  <p>Gravity tugs from within their bellies and they come undone with sparks shooting up their spines.</p>
  <p>Japan smiles breathlessly at him, despite the protests and embarrassment earlier that evening. Somewhere far away, China yells at them to shut up and Herakles thinks he is blessed.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>He stood up forcefully, making his dining chair skid backward with a screech. He switched off his computer with an angry snap and went to the bathroom to wash his face.</p><p>Corporal Cat followed him curiously, no doubt wondering what could have happened to disrupt his work. She saw him hunched over the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror as if he were about to punch it. His large hands balled into tight fists as he let out a breath of air.</p><p>"<em>Got a headache,</em>" Herakles said with an apologetic smile when he caught her staring. "<em>What time is it?</em>"</p><p>"<em>Six in the morning,</em>" Corporal answered coolly. "<em>Rest in the house today. If you go outside, I'll bite your tail off.</em>"</p><p>"Ah—" He watched her slink to the garden and sighed. Despite the annoyance in her voice, Herakles knew Corporal was only concerned. Guilt and gratitude twinged in his chest and he decided he wasn't going to chase after his past, not anymore. He was going to live, not for someone else, but for himself.</p><p>Morning light streamed in through the bathroom window.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"<em>How was Athens?</em>" Corporal Cat greeted as Herakles squeezed through his front door flushed from travel and laden with gifts from his one week visit to the countrysides.</p><p>"<em>It was amazing,</em>" he said, dusting off his sandals and arranging his souvenirs on the living room couch for later sorting. The fruits and food he stored in the kitchen. "<em>They had real aged wine, probably the first bottle ever made here and enough ingredients for horiatiki. The sky was the bluest I've ever seen and they had more plants than the Botanical Gardens. It's really refreshing to see what they've done over the years. So much space! You would have enjoyed it,</em>" Herakles prattled on excitedly and Corporal hummed in absent acknowledgement.</p><p>"<em>You know I dislike traveling on your transport,</em>" she said. "<em>But if I disappear in the next week, you'll know I took up your offer.</em>"</p><p>Herakles gave a laugh and removed his jeans before entering the shower. "<em>Did anything happen while I was gone?</em>"</p><p>"<em>Your violets died,</em>" Corporal answered casually.</p><p>"<em>What?!</em>" His voice echoed above the gush of running water. "<em>Didn't you water it?</em>"</p><p>"<em>I did!</em>" It was a lie she found amusing. "<em>A kixitʊ bit the leaves off and I killed it.</em>" After a pause, she added. "<em>I wouldn't know about your emails though.</em>"</p><p>"<em>I understand. I'm staying in tomorrow to check them all. Did anything spoil?</em>"</p><p>"<em>See for yourself,</em>" Corporal replied and with that, she left to go about her business.</p><p>Herakles entered the kitchen with only a towel for drying his hair. He got bread and cheese from the cupboard, threw out week-old leftover dinners and turned on his computer.</p><p>There were notes of thanks from the mayor of Athens among the back log of his usual daily reports. From the Council were regular newsletters, hellos from a few nations but nothing much besides. Herakles duly read the more urgent ones before closing his mail so he could be free to do what he was really in the mood for. And perhaps he was feeling quite cheerful that the Council's security was easy to break into.</p><p>Herakles looked at his map and watched the numbers scroll down, reviewing what he had already drawn. But after reaching more than a million feet above his planet's atmosphere, something didn’t look right.</p><p>There were gaps in the numbers—small gaps unnoticeable at the speed with which the numbers were scrolling, but Herakles saw them. It was perplexing. They couldn't be space because both space and solids were encoded as numbers. If there should be any explanation, it would be that the radar couldn't bounce off it, as if these gaps ate up its signals.</p><p>Out of curiosity, he managed to click one.</p><p>His window of numbers vanished.</p><p>Herakles sat in stiff puzzlement for a few minutes, wondering if he had done anything he'd regret. But after a while, the window returned, full with numbers as if nothing happened. There was, however, a second window that appeared, blank and black like a command box used to input coding.</p><p>A cursor blinked steadily, waiting.</p><p>Herakles typed a 'hello'.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>hello</p>
  <p>hello</p>
</blockquote><p>It answered back and the heat left his fingers. His heart began pounding painfully. Was…was this it? Had he been caught? There weren't any spaceships coming to abduct and punish him…yet. His stomach sank and he looked around the empty kitchen for good measure.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>is this the council</p>
</blockquote><p>'No,' Herakles typed back. 'Are you looking for them?'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>no<br/>are you looking for them?</p>
  <p>oh good<br/>i was not looking for them</p>
</blockquote><p>There was relief there. He could tell because he felt it too, like a shot of liquor down his throat. But his heartbeat wasn't calming down.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>who is this</p>
</blockquote><p>Herakles blinked at the question. Was it alright to be honest? He tried to remember his Butterflies from the 2000s. People were more open with strangers on the internet because they knew they were under no obligation to keep in touch with the people they met. But was that really the case? That if you talked constantly without seeing each other in person, there wouldn't be any sort of connection forged? He was inclined to disagree…</p><p>His hands hovered over the keyboard.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>who is this</p>
  <p>are you a nation</p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>His mind began to race. So…so…was this mystery person a nation like himself? He let out a shaky laugh. So he wasn't the only one. He wasn't the only one who wanted to break free from all their restrictions. Was that what this meant? He hoped it was. His body moved on its own. 'Yes,' he said. 'I am New Greece. You are?'</p><p>There was a tense pause.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>yes<br/>i am new greece<br/>you are?</p>
  <p>herakles san</p>
</blockquote><p>Herakles froze. <em>(Could it be? Could it be? This was too much of a coincidence!)</em> He almost heard his name, instead of seeing it on screen, spoken in a low voice, gentle with an upward lilt at the end.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>ah<br/>probably</p>
</blockquote><p>Only one person talked to him like that. And that person came with those fleeting bouts of happiness, rivers in the desert, quiet hands and the clean smell of polished rice. The one person who absolutely <em>baffled</em> him. And may his mother's gods strike if he still couldn't remember his name and say it like he used to. They had taken a long time before they called each other by their names.</p><p>'Kiku. Japan.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>kiku<br/>japan</p>
  <p>yes<br/>hello</p>
</blockquote><p>And just as some mysterious mix of dread, desire, longing, guilt and confusion pooled in his belly, Corporal Cat came in through the back door.</p><p>"<em>What are you doing?</em>" she deadpanned when she saw Herakles in a most ridiculous, back-breaking pose of shielding his computer, like a kid caught red-handed.</p><p>"<em>Corporal, </em>" he began warily. "<em> I know you keep secrets for me, but swear you'll guard this one with your life.</em>"</p><p>At first she wanted to scold him, bat his head with her large paw and step on his tail, demanding why she should keep any secret of his at all. But at his tone and the plea in his eyes, Corporal simply nodded and nudged the door shut.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>tbc</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. send me strength, send me love (such sweet love)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Herakles begins to understand that no matter how far apart they are, he and Japan have always been connected.</p><p>🎵 Listening:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81_DAXYGvFs">Orange and Lemons - Lihim</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEG954o2dvg">Vertical Horizon - Forever</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Some kind of magic, moving was automatic<br/>The days go on forever, reaching forward, not looking back<br/>Synchronicity, I get the feeling</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p><span class="big"><span class="big"><span class="big">W</span></span></span>hen Corporal Cat returned from her hunt early that morning, she was no longer surprised to hear typing from the kitchen.</p><p>"<em>As much as I'm glad that you're still running your country while finding the time to talk to him,</em>" she said. "<em>Please get some sleep.</em>"</p><p>"<em>I'm fine, Corporal,</em>" Herakles replied, not looking up from his computer.</p><p>It was true, there was nothing about the man that showed signs of fatigue. If anything, this was the happiest Corporal had ever seen him. But was this a cause to lose sleep for? Seeing Herakles crack a small smile with every reply he received, pause to think about what he should say and type with a quiet happiness shining deep from in his eyes, Corporal would like to think Herakles was no different from who he was before. Then again, she was in no position to say such and shrugged the thought off. She went to the dining table and looked at his messages.</p><p>"<em>…isn’t he the man who was in the Butterflies you were viewing two weeks ago?</em>"</p><p>Herakles' typing slowed down. "<em>Well…yes.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Does he not have his own country to run?</em>" she asked.</p><p>"<em>He says it's alright,</em>" he said. "<em>He says his mayors are still as efficient as he remembers, which is a load off his back.</em>"</p><p>Corporal rumbled thoughtfully. "<em>I take it that's good then. But don't let the Council catch you both.</em>"</p><p>Herakles didn't answer as she left. The familiar feeling of helplessness and distance stirred in his stomach. The times he got through to Japan's server were infrequent and irregular, even when he was hacking Council security almost everyday now. Their conversations were short, meandering and filled with reminiscing memories that weren't really theirs, like neighborhood gossip colored and retold with the same vitality had the experience been theirs.</p><p>It was alright. A fuzzy sort of warmth spread across Herakles' shoulders and plastered a dopey smile on his face every time he read Japan's words on his screen. And somehow, he began to understand what was so precious in fleeting moments like these.</p><p>But the gnawing at the back on his mind asked if he could bring back the intimacy he and Japan shared when they had been on Earth if he kept this up, and whether it was right to do so. Too often, he felt his actions were dictated by the need to bring his old life back. It left him wondering if he really wanted to do this, if any disparity in him existed or if he was simply creating problems for himself.</p><p>'Sorry,' he typed. 'Corporal Cat came home.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>sorry<br/>corporal cat came home</p>
  <p>your cat?</p>
  <p>ah she is not exactly a cat is she. tell me more about her. are there many cats there as you had back in greece</p>
</blockquote><p>'There aren't a lot of them, not in the cities. They were kind of like the people here before we arrived. They take pride in their culture and independence so there are places on the planet that are reserved for them. Only very few venture to the cities and stay. Corporal is one of them and she's sort of like their leader. But I guess she does remind me of the cats I had then. I've come to value her company very much. How about you? Do you have a Pochi there of some sort?'</p><p>Herakles pressed 'enter' and looked mildly surprised at the length of his reply, trying to recall when they had gotten so eager to converse.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>there aren't a lot of them, not in the cities.<br/>they were kind of like the people here before we arrived.<br/>they take pride in their culture and independence<br/>so there are places on the planet that are reserved for them.<br/>only very few venture to the cities and stay.<br/>corporal is one of them and she's sort of like their leader.</p>
  <p>but I guess she does remind me of the cats I had then.<br/>i've come to value her company very much.<br/>how about you?<br/>do you have a Pochi there of some sort?</p>
  <p>i have a pochi</p>
</blockquote><p>And somehow he heard that being said with a smile.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i have a pochi</p>
  <p>and similar to your case, his kind is what we have been modified from.<br/>they are quite like dogs because they have an affinity toward us<br/>but it seems i am the only one who understands their speech</p>
  <p>that comforts me greatly<br/>i have no one in the house to talk to<br/>and my people live so far away from each other</p>
  <p>it's space i could never have imagined</p>
</blockquote><p>And in here, Herakles heard a disdainful laugh. 'Tell me more about your planet,' he said.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>tell me more about your planet</p>
  <p>it is cold</p>
</blockquote><p>There was a pause and he could almost see it—the profile of Japan's face, smooth and fair as it was in memories, preparing to speak uninhibited because the hill they were on was so breezy that it beckoned secrets from one's lips.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>it is cold</p>
  <p>and we see no star in our sky.<br/>i am not sure if we even have a star.<br/>the light comes from the land and everything on it.<br/>it reminds me of summer nights in the countryside when the fireflies come out.</p>
  <p>but</p>
  <p>but now i can only tell the difference between night and day through the computer clock.<br/>i would like to reconcile my memories with what i see<br/>but pochi tells me the planet has been this way since he was born</p>
</blockquote><p>A fantastical image expanded across Herakles' mind—a planet of darkness, so unlike the perpetual sunset orange of his own, lit up only by the ground or a fluorescent forest. He wondered how the people lived and what they did for a living. His curiosity was laced with a hesitant sympathy. Was he the first person Japan could properly confide in after all this time? He wasn't sure if the feeling spreading across his shoulders was good or bad.</p><p>'I can only imagine what you see,' he typed back. 'And if only I could take you here, you'd see the sun rise every four hours.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i can only imagine what you see<br/>and if only i could take you here<br/>you'd see the sun rise every four hours</p>
  <p>ah<br/>you haven’t changed herakles san<br/>i would gladly take your offer if could</p>
</blockquote><p>He frowned as a thought just occurred to him. It was a feeling like finding himself on the edge of a precipice—thrilling and dreadful. 'Kiku,' he typed. 'Why <em>are</em> you out here? Do you map the stars too?'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>kiku</p>
  <p>why <em>are</em> you out here?<br/>do you map the stars too?</p>
  <p>well</p>
</blockquote><p>And just like that, the server disconnected and Herakles sat in the kitchen feeling like he'd skipped a step and his stomach dropped and rolled under the bed, waiting to be found and bewilderedly dusted off.</p><p>It wouldn't be until three weeks later that he'd get the chance to talk to Japan again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"You look down, sir," said Nikos, the elderly owner of the farm he was visiting, as he leaned on his rake.</p><p>Herakles blinked away his thoughts at the remark and moved from the rows of onions they had been tending. "Maybe," he answered with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and joined the man gazing at his farm.</p><p>Florina was at its sunniest and the town had been preparing for their first onion planting (as their lands had been deemed most suitable for its growth). Herakles had gone from house to house, greeting people, being offered food, holding short seminars on agricultural development and helping farmers till the soil.</p><p>This household was his last stop for the day and tomorrow would be his departure celebration (no really, it was the partying excuse of every city he visited). The farm was owned by Nikos and his wife, whose house was being taken over by basil trellises. They loved the scent of them in the morning as it reminded them of their children when they still played in the gardens. The children had grown up now and worked in the capital.</p><p>"That's no good, sir," Nikos said. "These plants might not grow well if you are sad."</p><p>Herakles smiled but didn't reply. The farmer peered curiously at his face.</p><p>"Anything on your mind?"</p><p>"Just a few questions," said Herakles and the farmer clapped him on the back.</p><p>"Nothing that wouldn’t be solved over coffee, I hope?" he asked and invited him to their home.</p><p>Herakles stepped into their low-ceilinged kitchen, humbled and awed at the rustic charm they’ve decided to adopt. Kitchenware lined one wall, a gas stove beside it, then the sink and a windowsill of flowers. The farmer went about rummaging for a pot and the coffee grinder, turning on the stove, filling the pot with water and letting it boil while he ground the coffee beans.</p><p>"I will tell you my favorite story about my great grand-aunt," he said as he worked, and Herakles seated himself at the kitchen table. "Out of all the Butterflies you have given, sir, this particular memory never fails to cheer me up."</p><p>He laid milk and honey on the table, along with two cups. It was funny how the elderly loved to tell Herakles their stories despite knowing he was far older than them and had more stories that surpassed any of their lives. But Herakles valued their wisdom and enjoyed listening to them like a child imaging wonders of a golden heyday. So, he poured milk into his coffee and waited eagerly with warming hands.</p><p>"When my great grand-aunt was young," Nikos began. "She fell in love with a Russian astronaut whom she had met once on her dance troupe's tour. There was an instant spark between them. He loved the way she moved and she loved his strength and his face. They exchanged mail even after they parted, but when the Russian astronaut had to leave for his first mission, they ceased to talk."</p><p>"My great aunt thought she had fallen out of love and continued dancing day after day. But her heart was troubled, because no matter where she looked, she could not let the astronaut go. Their relationship had not been particularly deep, no, it was just a matter of letters and fondness. But great grand-aunt said that it was that fondness, such steady, prevailing fondness that made her think this astronaut was someone greater &amp; more special than anyone in her life."</p><p>"His voyage lasted for seventy years and great grand-aunt chose not to pine, but she did remain single. When she retired from dancing, everyone was asking who her constant inspiration was, and she told them with a secret smile and a wink that it was her lover in the stars. Oh, how I wish I could have seen the sky she used to look up at with such peace and a bit of longing."</p><p>Nikos took a soothing sip of his coffee and continued animatedly. "The Russian astronaut returned to the Earth when my great grand-aunt was ill and bedridden. She could not stand anymore to greet him and you know what he did? He flew to Greece to give her letters. All the letters he wrote in his aircraft with a pencil and paper."</p><p>"That Butterfly was so beautiful, sir. See it if you have the time. Great grand-aunt shook and cried as he read his letters aloud by her bedside, looking like he wasn't a day over thirty while she was old and wrinkly. 'Dear Helen,' he wrote. 'The sky over Greece is clear. If I look hard enough, I can see you dancing.' She passed away that night, with the Russian astronaut by her side and the letters on her chest."</p><p>Their coffee was nearly finished and Nikos was staring at the last sip at the bottom of his cup.</p><p>"Great grandmother claimed, though, that her sister had been alone during that time," the elderly farmer said. "She didn’t want to tell her sister the Russian astronaut's voyage had failed a month prior and only debris of the craft were discovered."</p><p>They shared a commemorative silence. Astraios was sinking when Herakles stood to thank him for the coffee.</p><p>"And for that beautiful story," he said with a smile.</p><p>The farmer shook his hand. "Nothing is as small or as big as we think, sir. You have helped us greatly." And in the next day, Herakles left Florina.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>it is hard for me to leave the house</p>
  <p>walking is not painful but getting anywhere on foot takes a lot of time.<br/>i take the entire afternoon to go to the convenience store for groceries</p>
</blockquote><p>'You have convenience stores there?' Herakles asked bemusedly.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>you can convenience stores there?</p>
  <p>of course. convenience stores and railways are the first things i had built.<br/>all of the prefectures have convenience stores and train lines so they stay connected even if the capital is so far away</p>
  <p>i myself live in the okinawa prefecture. i run my planet from my home. pochi loves it when we go out to the convenience store</p>
</blockquote><p>'That sounds lovely,' he typed with a growing smile. 'But you hardly see anyone. Don't you get lonely?'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>that sounds lovely<br/>but you hardly see anyone</p>
  <p>don't you get lonely?</p>
  <p>more often than i can count</p>
  <p>i see my butterflies and know there are a hundred different worlds from mine.<br/>when i knew just one, i would not have bothered finding out how to live differently from how i did<br/>but now i can't help but search for what more can be out there<br/>where everyone is and how they are</p>
</blockquote><p>Herakles shifted on his kitchen chair with a melancholy creak. Corporal Cat was out and the house was empty. He felt a building up inside his chest and wondered <em>was this it?</em> So he wasn't the only one so troubled by the detachment he felt from his memories? How can Japan be so carelessly honest with him, supposedly knowing that their troubles of the heart were right beside them, chatting lightly, heavily, carefully avoiding landmines <em>(were they even there?)</em>. Was the distance between them the source of his reassurance? Herakles could see it—a pained look on a beautiful face of the beautiful man on their grassy hill. <em>(Who was he?)</em> It was as if Japan could not say what to Herakles he could only say…</p><p>(But who were they kidding? If they thought they weren't being honest with themselves because they feared they wouldn't feel the same as they did when they were together, then what was there before the fear? Wasn't <em>feeling</em> quite enough? What mattered was the <em>now, </em>right?)</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>there are days i can hardly believe i'm talking to you and i pray desperately you aren't someone who isn't real</p>
  <p>i am not the one to send a lot of letters, even if the council allows such.<br/>sometimes it is hard believing things you cannot see, especially in my planet when you feel like you are contained in a little space of your own</p>
  <p>but i am rambling</p>
  <p>i too would like to take you here some time. it is truly lovely and i don't have anyone to share what i see</p>
</blockquote><p>There wasn't fanfare. No falling petals or rain or kisses (which truly felt lonely). Just gravity and the warmth in Herakles' shoulders, spreading across his back and oozing on the floor like red strings, reaching out in quiet measures to someone across time and space. Just a steady, prevailing fondness that made astronauts write 'I see you dancing' in pencils and made ladies look up at the sky.</p><p>There was a word for it or something like a word <em>(</em>ἔρως, 愛<em>...)</em>. Herakles need not rush and Japan knew this too. He almost laughed when he thought he could feel the beginnings of a river under his feet, ready to rage in its own time, when he was sure he wouldn't be able to contain this feeling in that word which was something like a word. <em>(What would he do then? Kiss the computer screen? If Corporal would see, she wouldn't let him hear the end of it.)</em></p><p>'I would like that very much,' Herakles said. 'And I do miss you, Kiku.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>but i am rambling</p>
  <p>i too would like to take you here some time. it is truly lovely and i don't have anyone to share what i see</p>
  <p>i would like that very much</p>
  <p>and i do miss you, kiku</p>
</blockquote><p>(Twenty-three light years away, in a small dark planet, Kiku too would imagine Greece on a grassy hill, the profile of his face set and gentle, ready to say things that would catch Kiku off-guard, crinkle his well pressed yukata and make him <em>love</em> him for it. Because on their hill, all they needed was the holding of hands and the lacing of fingers.)</p><p>(And Kiku would cry in front of his own computer, glowing lilac like a night lamp. Pochi would nose his elbow and they would cuddle.</p><p>"You really do love him, don't you. You do so much just to talk to him."</p><p>Pochi wouldn't need an answer. Only this loneliness would be their constant company as the server would disconnect.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"<em>And what are those?</em>" Corporal Cat asked when she returned home one afternoon and saw Herakles sitting on the floor beside the couch, surrounded by Memory Sheets and immersed in a Reader.</p><p>He looked up. "<em>Oh hello, Corporal. I just came from the Library. Um…have you eaten?</em>"</p><p>She licked her paws and sat down regally beside him. "<em>A most delectable ʧitita, thank you. What are you reading—?</em>"</p><p>Herakles pulled the Reader back and stood in a childish panic, but Corporal had already seen the diagram of a spacecraft of the screen and pounced on him. Tension between them swelled like an angry balloon and filled the living room to bursting.</p><p>"<em>What do you think you're doing?</em>" she hissed, canines bared.</p><p>"<em>None of your business, <b>erin!ŋao.</b></em>" he spat back, pushing her off him. His tail curved in an angry arch.</p><p>"<em>I might as well make it my damn business, <b>human.</b> This is our planet as much as it is yours and I am not going to let it be destroyed because of your silly whims!</em>"</p><p>"<em>I am <b>not</b> letting this planet be destroyed!</em>"</p><p>"<em>Then what the <b>hell</b> are you doing trying to reach him when you know damn well you shouldn't? And don't give me bull about Butterflies! You are the leader of this nation! I will <b>not</b> allow you to be so irresponsible and build any spacecrafts on my lands! <b>You will not go to see him!</b></em>"</p><p>The computer seen from the kitchen doorway never seemed so exposed. The living room teemed with angry sparks that would fly and shatter with any more push. Herakles and Corporal Cat looked right about ready to claw at each other's faces, until the latter calmed down and headed for the direction of the door.</p><p>"<em>Cool your head, Herakles Karpusi,</em>" Corporal Cat said with her back turned to him. "<em>I understand how much you mean to each other but your Council had good reasons to keep you within your planets. You have a responsibility with us. As a nation, do not forget that.</em>"</p><p>The front door slammed shut.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>tbc</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. here's the day (you hoped would never come)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Council finds out.</p><p>🎵 Listening:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-YSmX1pZD8">Kokia - Ai no Melody</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cN-RwnufBR0">Imogen Heap - Speeding Cars</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Light as a feather, lifting up together<br/>But a heavy ache and focus blames circles in our heads<br/>Eyes meet, though we didn't see what would be</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p><span class="big"><span class="big"><span class="big">I </span></span></span>want to see you,' Herakles had said.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>what</p>
</blockquote><p>'I want to see you. You sound so lonely out there. I'll build a ship and I'll see you. We'll meet and we'll definitely be sure—'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>what</p>
  <p>i want to see you<br/>you sound so lonely out there</p>
  <p>i'll build a ship and i'll see you<br/>we'll meet and we'll definitely be sure</p>
  <p>you don't know where i am herakles san</p>
</blockquote><p>He had ignored the interruption. 'I'll follow the coordinates of the gaps in my signals. It'll take me to the wormhole where the spacetime is bent. I'll warp into your atmosphere.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i'll follow the coordinates of the gaps in my signals<br/>it'll take me to the wormhole where the spacetime is bent<br/>i'll warp into your atmosphere</p>
  <p>you don't know what my atmosphere is like<br/>what if it kills you</p>
  <p>then you have to tell me everything there is to know about your planet<br/>i'll make a space suit</p>
  <p>what about the council. direct travel is strictly forbidden<br/>who knows what will happen when you get caught</p>
  <p>IF i get caught<br/>what the council doesn't know what won't hurt them</p>
  <p>i'll be fine</p>
  <p>how can you be so sure<br/>you may be fine but what about your planet<br/>your people need you</p>
</blockquote><p>Herakles almost replied, 'They'll be fine too, I'll be right back' with boyish confidence, but the thought of his planet tipped the scales and sent the first fingers of helplessness and frustration creeping into his chest.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i'm sorry herakles san<br/>but i cannot think as grandly as you</p>
  <p>you haven't said you didn't want to see me</p>
  <p>i do want to see you. so very badly<br/>it is already my immense happiness that i can talk with you like this</p>
  <p>and</p>
  <p>if you come here<br/>i don't think it would be fair to my people<br/>if i were the only one to experience a world beyond my own</p>
</blockquote><p>Herakles heard a dispassionate laugh there, like one after cracking a lame, inopportune joke. He slumped in his chair, drained and disbelieving. 'This is ridiculous. We all know of worlds beyond ours. It's in our history—'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>this is ridiculous<br/>we all know of worlds beyond ours<br/>it's in our history</p>
  <p>you are special herakles</p>
</blockquote><p>He stopped typing and waited with a sinking heart for an elaboration.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>out of all the nations i've met again, you are the only one who doesn't seem afraid of voicing out your feelings<br/>and that is the strength in my hope that i will someday see you<br/>but as we are now, i am not sure</p>
</blockquote><p>And something small but incredibly illuminating clicked in place. 'Who have you emailed? Have you hacked into other servers?'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>who have you emailed?<br/>have you hacked into other servers?</p>
  <p>yours is the first server i got through. we correspond through the council<br/>arthur san often jokes he feels his planet is as small as ever<br/>feliciano kun mails his brother everyday but it doesn't seem enough, at least for him<br/>alfred san says inventing distracts him when he gets lonely<br/>everyone seems to be unnerved by the distance</p>
  <p>then shouldn't the council do something about this?</p>
  <p>no one thinks it's something they can bring to the council</p>
  <p>you're joking</p>
  <p>herakles i know you're mad but it's for the good of our people<br/>we knew what we were getting into when we agreed to all of this</p>
  <p>no we didn't!<br/>we didn't know we'd be separated from our loved ones by rules and lightyears!</p>
  <p>who does the council think they're fooling?<br/>we humans can never hope to be contained in one country, let alone one planet</p>
  <p>they are humans herakles san<br/>let them learn as much as they can with butterflies and books<br/>we are nations<br/>we</p>
</blockquote><p>There was a sad pause and it was in those pauses that Herakles longed to cup Kiku's face in his hands, look into his eyes, say <em>you don't have to do this</em> and place a kiss on his lips.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>do you believe that, kiku?<br/>that we're too much of nations not to be human anymore?</p>
  <p>no<br/>i don't believe that at all</p>
</blockquote><p>There was a heavy pause.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i want to see you</p>
  <p>i want to see you, too</p>
</blockquote><p>After the server had disconnected, Herakles had gone straight to the Library.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The week was almost over and Corporal Cat still hadn't returned home. The Memory Sheets Herakles had borrowed lay unread on the living room couch. Herakles himself ceased to spend time on the computer in his tiny kitchen. He badly needed a distraction from the conflict within him, one so simple yet powerful enough to tear him apart if he stayed in his house.</p><p>He spent long afternoons in the Santorini City Botanical Gardens, helping the staff tend herbs and flowers bred from strains of the natural flora and DNA that are native to their land. The greenhouses held some of the most intriguing hybrids and the manual labor was gratifying.</p><p>As Herakles violently dug up holes in the soil to replant a tray of lavender lilies, he looked forlornly at his large hands, gloved and dirty from working with earth, and bitterly wondered why they were shaped as humans if they weren't going to be allowed act like them.</p><p>It was funny, though, that in a different age, on a different planet, in a different body, he was still painfully torn between his duties as a nation and his impulses as a person—a person who saw, heard, felt, perceived, dreamed, laughed, cried and loved just like any other. The only difference between them and his people was the time given to him to learn from mistakes and make amends to those he had wounded over the years, which honestly wasn't much of a difference at all.</p><p>Despite not feeling worthy of containing the rich memories of his past in a body that neither made nor experienced them, Herakles was at ease, knowing this particular pain of duality told him he was very much a nation and that this rebellious analytical stubbornness told him that nation was Greece.</p><p>"You've been coming over almost everyday, Sir Karpusi," the supervisor of the Botanical Gardens told him as he crouched over the flower patch. "We can't thank you enough for helping us."</p><p>"It's nothing," Herakles answered with a smile. "I'm just trying to see what flowers we can bring back here."</p><p>"You are truly remarkable, sir, for having seen so many beautiful flowers in your lifetime," the supervisor said with peaceful awe.</p><p>"It's not that I miss seeing them," Herakles continued as the man joined him in planting the lavender lilies. "There's something comforting in keeping the things from the past with you, but…maybe like these plants, the best way to let the past live is to have them change with the times. Or at least a little from what they used to be, so they can still be beautiful."</p><p>The supervisor smiled too. "I know what you mean, sir. I have been told about the fragrance of a lavender and the fragrance of a lily, but fused together, they make a new fragrance I experience for myself. It is a rather refreshing change."</p><p>They admired their handiwork for a moment before the man spoke again. "Do you love plants as you did back then, sir?"</p><p>"I wouldn't call it love," Herakles answered as his soiled, stubby-fingered working gloves stroked a petal and he paused in momentary surprise at what he just said. "I…I didn't need to call it anything."</p><p>And whether he was still talking about planting or something else, it didn't seem to matter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He sent an email to a person he hadn’t thought of sending one since he returned as New Greece.</p><p>'Have you ever wanted to see me?' it read and Herakles hoped the Council wouldn't make anything suspicious of it. He didn't know why his hands were sweaty, or why his heart was pounding like one confronting family he had abandoned for years.</p><p>New Turkey's reply was quick to be sent. 'I suppose I haven't. But why the hell not. You're cute.'</p><p>Herakles almost snorted out the lunch he was eating. 'What Butterflies are you on? The 1600s?'</p><p>'I've gotten well past 2050, thank you very much. And yep, you weren't cute all the time. Wanted to strangle you more than a couple times but that was all back then, right kiddo? If I was given the chance to see you, I'd tease you. But I won't because I wanna think you're still cute, ain't you. Don't let me down now.'</p><p>As Herakles read his mail, hearing a haughty voice and bark-like laughter, his cheeks flamed with annoyance and embarrassment, mostly at himself for feeling like a school boy who had been commended by a teacher who never before acknowledged him outside of criticisms.</p><p>'Stupid old man,' he typed with a comfortable rush in his fingers.</p><p>'Wouldn't you like to see me?'</p><p>'Yeah I would,' Herakles found himself grinning at the computer screen. 'To kick you. I have big feet now.'</p><p>'Oh yeah? Well I'm a motherfuckin' dragon, kiddo. Tough luck.'</p><p>'Douche.'</p><p>'Darlin'</p><p>It was amazing, how he found himself laughing. Was this how the emails between Veneziano and Romano went? Between Romano and Spain and America and England as Japan had told him? It had been a while since Herakles heard laughter in his home, but he couldn't help thinking how lonely the laughter rang inside empty walls.</p><p>He suddenly got the urge to talk to everyone, so he mailed New Egypt and hoped he was online, wondering if his quiet friend was now more verbose, if not in speech then in letters.</p><p>'I need some advice, my friend,' the email read. 'Would I be able to stop myself acting out of love?'</p><p>'<em>When love beckons to you, follow him,<br/>Though his ways are hard and steep.<br/>And when his wings enfold you yield to him,<br/>Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.<br/>And when he speaks to you believe in him,<br/>Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.</em>'</p><p>He stared at his screen, bemused. 'Who's that from?'</p><p>'Kahlil Gibran, <em>The Prophet</em>. He wrote before the Second War.'</p><p>'Of course, how could I forget.'</p><p>'Act within reason, Herakles. Whatever you're up to…'</p><p>'I know. Thank you, Hassan.'</p><p>'Talk to me again.'</p><p>'I will.'</p><p>Herakles was running on adrenaline. He washed his plate and dried his hands on the dishtowel, gearing for the hope that was building inside him. He wasn't going to construct a ship. Japan was right to say it would be unfair for them to meet when everyone also wanted to bridge the distances between them but had no inclination or courage to try. Herakles was going to be the first to make the difference, and whatever the outcome, at least he could tell himself he did something.</p><p>He checked his home, drawing the curtains against the afternoon evening sky for good measure before returning to his computer and breaking through Council security with practiced ease.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>kiku, are you there?</p>
  <p>herakles san?</p>
  <p>listen, i have an idea</p>
  <p>please don't tell me you are still building a ship</p>
  <p>nothing of the sort<br/>well maybe, in the future</p>
  <p>but for now i've got an idea how to see you<br/>i'm hacking into the radar orbiting around your planet as we chat</p>
  <p>herakles san</p>
</blockquote><p>He heard Japan's overwhelmed sigh, one mixed with fear and excitement. He grinned. 'I'm wiring your camera to my screen. I won't see just numbers.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i'm wiring your camera to my screen</p>
  <p>i won't see just numbers</p>
  <p>how<br/>have you done this before? i mean<br/>how do you know there's a camera on the radar<br/>and oh<br/>i'm worried for you</p>
</blockquote><p>'I've been wondering about it,' Herakles said as his fingers flew over the keyboard, typing like a combo breaker in a dance video game. 'It seems to work in theory but I wouldn't really know unless I try.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i've been wondering about it<br/>it seems to work in theory<br/>but i wouldn't really know unless i try</p>
  <p>please be careful</p>
</blockquote><p>After three layers of security and fifteen tries of passwords, a window expanded on Herakles' computer screen. He trembled as a father would upon seeing the first image of his baby in their mother's womb.<br/><br/>The feed was slightly grainy and static disrupted it often, but it was colored and clear. A white star circled around a small planet with a severely thick atmosphere. It was so wrapped up in layers and layers of space gas that Herakles was sure no starlight would be able to pierce through their skies. But past this grey-blue gas, he could make out a glowing sphere, round and tantalizing, gentle like the nation it gave birth to.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>herakles san?</p>
</blockquote><p>'Japan.' There were tears in his eyes and an ache in his heart. 'Kiku. You are beautiful.'</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>japan</p>
  <p>kiku</p>
  <p>you are beautiful</p>
  <p>ah</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>All of a sudden, the computer screen blazed an angry red and a message in large, white letters blinked unceasingly, warningly, threateningly.</p><p>
  <strong>[ VIOLATION VIOLATION ]<br/>[ CODE #616 ]<br/>[ BREACHED ]</strong>
</p><p>Herakles froze.<br/><br/>Dread rapidly spiraled downward and out his stomach like horrible vertigo. Heat left his fingers. Movement left his legs. His heart began pounding fiercely in his throat.</p><p>The computer flashed a new message.</p><p>
  <strong>[ NATION #47 ]<br/>[ PLEASE COME QUIETLY ]<br/>[ YOU WILL BE TRIED AT THE SHANGRI LA ]</strong>
</p><p>"This isn't fair," Herakles whispered under his breath, running a panicked hand through his hair. It took a while for him to gather his wits and make him bolt from the kitchen.</p><p>He jumped a mile in the air when the front door creaked open.</p><p>"<em>Listen Herakles,</em>" Corporal Cat said coolly, as if she dislike apologizing but wanted to do so anyway. "<em>I'm sorry I said those things to you. I know you've got a lot going on inside you being from Earth and all and…what's wrong?</em>"</p><p>Herakles was peeking through the curtains. The thrum and whine of space craft engines were growing louder and louder above his house and a crowd was gathering around the market place. Curious faces turned skyward as an egg-shaped vessel descended on the highest point of Santorini City.</p><p>He turned to his cat with shining eyes and a bittersweet smile. "<em>I'm sorry, Corporal. I've been caught."</em></p><p>Her jaw dropped open in surprise. "<em>What—?</em>"</p><p>"<em>But I'm not going down without a fight.</em>"</p><p>A steel mechanical claw crashed through the back door and lumbered into the living room. The erin!ŋao arched and hissed, backing up against the wall and Herakles smashed a large decorative jar over the clamps.</p><p>Like a blind, enraged bull, the claw swerved from left to right, caught Corporal Cat by the stomach and threw her to the ceiling with a crack. Herakles yelped her name, but ducked and ran to the laundry area for his shovel.</p><p>The computer in the kitchen continued to flash an angry red.</p><p>
  <strong>[ NATION #47 ]</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>[ PLEASE COME QUIETLY ]</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>[ YOU WILL BE TRIED AT THE SHANGRI LA ]</strong>
</p><p>Herakles came running into the living room, yelling an ancient battle cry and holding the shovel high above his head, before bringing it down on the claw with a deafening clang.</p><p>Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal. But the space craft was growing impatient. New Greeks around the market place watched in increasing indignation as the egg-shaped vessel hovering above Herakles' house smashed through the house with a crushing boom. The white-washed roof caved in, knocking the shovel from the nation's hands. The clamp shut tightly around his waist and hoisted him in the air. Panicked cries resounded from below.</p><p>"<strong><em>HERAKLES!</em></strong>" Corporal screeched, fighting from the rubble to grab hold of him with her paws, but the claw shook her off and sent her flying to the cobbled pathways with a sickening thud.</p><p>Enraged New Greeks hastened up the streets, shouting and waving whatever weapons they could find.</p><p>"<strong><em>STAY BACK!</em></strong>" Herakles bellowed and the claw all but threw him in the egg-shaped ship and closed shut.</p><p>He banged against its walls with bare fists, raging and screaming but soon found that there was no air.</p><p>
  <em>He couldn't breathe.</em>
</p><p>And pain, searing pain, pushed its way past his lungs to his head, threatening to burst from his skull.</p><p>[ Adjusting atmospheric temperatures. Adjusting atmospheric temperatures, ] he heard the machine say before losing consciousness.</p><p>His citizens could do nothing more but watch in horror as their beloved nation was carried into space.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>tbc</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. ours is just a little sorrowed talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Therein lies these dreams, engraved in our hearts. Dreams that neither floods nor earth-shaking or fires can displace. Buried, yes, but never gone.</p><p>🎵 Listening:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0A6uLPBwouw">Goo Goo Dolls - I'm Still Here</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqIACCH20JU">Duran Duran - Ordinary World</a></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been ten years since the Great Tohoku Earthquake. Yahoo! Japan and LINE are donating 10 yen for <a href="https://fukko.yahoo.co.jp/">every search of "3.11"</a>, though with timezones, you might not see this before March 11 ends for JST. If you're interested in helping out and donating, you can check out the <a href="https://fukko.yahoo.co.jp/donation/">donations page</a>. It's in Japanese, though you can translate the page on Chrome.</p><p>Back when I posted this on LJ, my readers didn't know I had an extra chapter coming and thought this story stopped here. I revealed snippets from the last chapter when I posted <a href="https://disownmereturns.livejournal.com/247898.html">an FST</a> (man, remember those?) and they went "WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM?" Good times! 😆</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p><em>Whatever happens now that I've changed<br/></em> <em>No one will ever stand in our way<br/>We both sent the signal, it's been delivered<br/>A crashing cymbal rings out<br/></em></p>
</div><p> </p><p><span class="big"> <span class="big"> <span class="big">C</span> </span> </span> <em>an I wish for 'Die Turkey' now?"</em></p><p>
  <em>"No you may not."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Don't look. My…my hair gets messy in the rain."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A…ah. <span class="small">But I don't see the difference.</span>"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herakles has his chin on his palm as he gazes fondly at his computer screen. He'd like to think Kiku is laughing at the other end while they reminisce like an old married couple of how awkward they were when they first met.</em>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>does your hair still curl in the rain?</p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>'I imagine it would if we had rain here.'</em>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i see<br/>there is indeed much to get used to in living out here</p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>'There is,' he types and his heart warms with joy and melancholy at Kiku's reply.</em>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>say we were at a shrine right now<br/>what would you wish for</p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>'To sit beside you and watch the world turn.'<br/>'To hold your hand.'</em>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>i<br/>i would grant that right away</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>The rumble and wheeze of hangar doors woke Herakles with a start. His head hit the top of the egg-shaped vessel and he swore in pain. There was a series of uncomfortable bumping and jostling as he travelled on what felt like a conveyor belt and figured he must have arrived at the Shangri La.</p><p>The vessel shuddered to a halt and hissed open. A helmet was immediately placed on his head to make him breathe easy and his hands were bound behind his back.<br/><br/>The walls of the Shangri La were hospital white and filled with angular grooves. Mysterious pops, whirrs, and clicks came from behind these walls and as Herakles moved closer to curiously examine them, two large paddles shot out and roughly led him along the narrow hallway. Five box-like security cameras erupted from other grooves in the ceiling and surrounded him.<br/><br/><strong>[ Nation #47. You will be tried at Chamber #2 for the violation of Code #616, ]</strong> a mechanical voice boomed from all around them in crisp English. <strong>[ Do you understand? ]</strong><br/><br/>"Clearly," Herakles spat, breath fogging the helmet visor. "Or have you forgotten we spoke English back on Earth, when <em>everyone</em> could talk with each other?"<br/><br/>A painful shock of electricity made him cry out in anger and surprise. His bound hands smarted and stung.<br/><br/><strong>[ Please remain silent, ]</strong> boomed the mechanical voice.<br/><br/>The paddles retracted into the walls as they came before double steel doors. Herakles was about to make a run for it when the grooves on the floor made way for another set of binds that bodily steered him into the next room.<br/><br/>It was an immense room that eerily clicked and whirred like an abandoned space ship that ate its own space crew. Security camera feeds filled the high ceiling and just ahead were ten smaller rooms reminiscent of detainment cells. The walls were not lined as in the hallway, but instead stacked with strange, rectangular computers that each bore a Butterfly on its front. They loomed menacingly above Herakles.<br/><br/><em>This,</em> he realized. This was what the heads of Project Satellite had become. The Council with the iron grip.<br/><br/><strong>[ Nation #47 to Chamber #2, ]</strong> boomed the mechanical voice. <strong>[ Nation #57 to Chamber #3. ]</strong><br/><br/>And another door opposite Herakles' hissed open. Past the panic and indignation throbbing in his head, Herakles heard pleas, broken pleas, in a language he didn't understand.<br/><br/>"やめてください！何も悪いことをしていない！" cried the small being that was steered in a mere twenty feet away from him. They struggled against their bonds like a wild animal and Herakles almost couldn't make out their shape if not for the same helmet being a black beacon against the frantically pulsing purple lights emitting from their body.<br/><br/>"私を放してください！誰か？！誰か助けて！"<br/><br/>That voice, that piercing keen struck Herakles cold with fear. His heart began to beat painfully in his chest.<br/><br/>"Kiku?" His voice too broke with emotion. "<em><b>KIKU!</b></em>"<br/><br/>The struggling being turned to look at him. Their body tensed in recognition and glowed brighter than before. "へ—<em><b>HERAKLES-SAN!</b></em>"<br/><br/>A giant wall slammed in between them and electricity coursed through Herakles' frame, making him howl with pain. Across him, a screech tore from Kiku's throat and Herakles dropped to his knees, repeating his name in desperate prayer.<br/><br/>He didn't notice as his bonds steered him into a tight chamber and that ten of the Council members had moved along the grooves on the floor to surrounded him.<br/><br/><strong>[ Make this quick #22. ]</strong><br/><br/><strong>[ Very well. Nation #47! ]</strong> boomed the mechanical voice. <strong>[ Herakles Karpusi of New Greece will hereby be punished for the violation of Code #616, making direct contact without Council intervention. Thus is your sentence... ]</strong></p><p>All Herakles could think of was Kiku even as the memory extraction device was being wired to his helmet.</p><p>Kiku and how he glowed lilac. Kiku and his dark, lonely planet. Kiku touching his curled hair under a rain-soaked umbrella. Kiku who kissed him and held his hand. Kiku who laughed when the cats licked their faces. Kiku who blushed when he acted inappropriately. Kiku who played video games until well past midnight. Kiku who hacked computers because he didn't want to be alone anymore. Kiku who yelled out his name.<br/><br/><strong>[ Any emotional investments you have made toward Nation #57, Japan and New Japan, shall be transferred into Butterflies. These Butterflies shall promptly be destroyed after collection. ]</strong><br/><br/>A familiar creeping sensation that slowly took over Herakles' body arrested the breath in his throat—<br/>(In an adjacent chamber, Kiku's pleas escalated into frenzied yelling. No, no…)</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>They were going to be erased…all of them.</p><p>All the fleeting moments of precious <em>precious</em> happiness that trickled through the earth and became a great river of uncontainable passion. The memories of Kiku's warmth, the feel of small calloused hands grasping his own, the scent of his hair, of chrysanthemums, polished rice and steel, the strength and wisdom in his voice, the soft of his cheeks and lips—<br/>(The memories of Herakles' heat, the feel of skin beneath his palms right over the reassuring beat of his heart, the kindness in his eyes, the gleam of mishchief and youth, his patience and the tang of his taste).<br/><br/>All the frustration and the warmth that spread across his shoulders when he read Kiku's messages on his computer—<br/>(All the thrill and bittersweetness that flowered in his chest when he answered Herakles' replies).</p><p>The calm and relief of realizing things had never changed between them and the overwhelming love.<br/><br/><a href="http://poupi.tumblr.com/post/3764214882/gone-by-jim-chappell">Gone.</a></p><p> </p><p>They were peeled away from Herakles in quiet layers—<br/>(They were peeled away from Kiku in quiet layers).<br/><br/>And unlike before, he did not relive them, but instead tried to cling to them for as long as he could, like a child holding water in his palms without knowing why, without knowing the water pushed past the seams of his cupped hands and escaped down his elbows—<br/>(And unlike before, Kiku did not relive them, but instead stood helpless and in shock as he was slowly emptied. He watched them fall away with his eyes wide and overbright. They grew dull as tears slipped down his glowing cheeks, and very soon…)<br/><br/>Very soon, Herakles could not recall why he was weeping or why his chest was aching or why this raw grief was gnawing away inside him.<br/><br/>He didn't know. He couldn't remember.<br/><br/>He felt his mind and his heart crumble to pieces.<br/><br/>Like water, they were gone from his hands.</p><p> </p><p>(In truth, the Council had never tried extracting emotions, only memories. They noted with surprise, as the lasers etched on fine metal wings, that color seeped into them. Lustrous pearl replaced the grey shine of metal alloy and a soft glow filled all the spaces of the frame. The Butterflies began fluttering about their glass globe like they were real.<br/><br/>When the extraction was over, they were released from their confines and flew out the open doors of Chambers #2 and #3, mingling and mixing like monarchs preparing for a great migration.<br/><br/><strong>[ Should we contain them? ]</strong> asked a Council member.</p><p><strong>[ Not to worry. They will all disintegrate as soon as they are exposed to air. ]</strong><br/><br/>And true enough, within minutes, all the Butterflies collapsed in a glittering shower.)</p><p><br/><br/>(Back in New Greece, everyone on the planet paused from their preoccupations and turned their faces toward the red orange sky as if drawn by a unifying conscience. Something like a great sigh lifted from the earth and a strange sense of loss all settled in the air.</p><p>Across the shallow sea, Astraios set for the fourth time—<br/>Across space-time, the planet of New Japan glowed softly in mourning.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Herakles' neighbors had busied themselves with repairing his house. It was an amazing community effort. Erin!ŋao came down from the mountains to take care of Corporal Cat and clean up the destruction with considerable difficulty at first, but soon the New Greeks helped them, despite not being able to understand their language. For three days, they worked tirelessly on the house with confusion, anger and fear in their hearts for what could have happened to their beloved nation.</p><p>So when the Council's egg-shaped aircraft returned, dropping a dazed Herakles on a lovingly swept doorstep, Corporal came limping from the living room couch to escort him inside and seat him on it. Concern was written all over her features.</p><p><strong>[ Let this be a warning to everyone, ]</strong> boomed a mechanical voice from the aircraft. <strong>[ …to all the nation-planets and their people of what will happen when Council rules are broken. ]</strong><br/><br/>The message was cryptic, but soon news spread like wildfire—the nation-planet of New Greece had tried to make direct contact with another planet, placing both countries in serious jeopardy. As punishment, his memories had been erased. Or rather, whatever it was the Council did, it took the warmth from Herakles' eyes, the smile from his face, his voice from his throat and the energy from his body.</p><p>On the day of Herakles' return, after Corporal had seated him on the couch, he neither moved nor spoke. He only stared ahead unseeingly. He didn't hear Corporal's words or the concerned questions of those who came to visit. He didn't feel the couch sink under the weight of her frantic pacing on its cushions nor the shakes or taps on his shoulder. He kept awake and starved like a broken man who had retreated into himself, leaving behind a pitiful shell.</p><p>There was no shortage of critics for Herakles' negligent behavior, but there were also those who backed up his reasons. 'We're all human,' they said. Nevertheless, the city mayors took turns in running the planet for a few weeks, amazed at the dedication involved in maintaining the peace and order. Concerned New Greeks paid a visit to the capital to bring Herakles food and wish him well.</p><p>Corporal Cat nodded to all of them in thanks, wondering how on earth could she tell them the way to bring Herakles back was to make him feel what it is to love and be loved again.</p><p>And then one day, the owner of the Santorini City Botanical Gardens came over with a tray of potted white flowers the erin!ŋao had never seen before. He placed them on a sunny windowsill, saying, "Sir Karpusi, we've successfully grown the chrysanthemums you've been working so hard to find the perfect strain for. They're surprisingly easy to take care of despite our climate. These will fully bloom in a month. I'd ask you to water them regularly but—"</p><p>Corporal Cat had made a strangled sound and the supervisor turned, following the direction of her surprised look. Herakles sat on the couch staring straight at him like a quiet child who had just woken up from a long, feverish sleep. The man placed his hand on his heart in his own surprise but soon smiled and took one flower pot from the tray.</p><p>He placed it in his nation's hands. "They truly are beautiful, sir."</p><p>Words failed them, however, when tears began rolling down Herakles' cheeks and he continued to stare at the white bloom, its petals yet to open and stretch like an upturned palm, reaching out to wipe the wetness from his eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was months before Herakles began speaking again and even longer before there was a semblance of a genuine smile on his face.</p><p>Corporal Cat stood by him and watched with an easing heart as he resumed his duties as a nation with renewed purpose, whatever that was. He no longer puzzled over the memories of his Butterflies and merely accepted them as they were. He no longer mapped the stars and his previous drawings had been erased from his computer. His dealings with his fellow nations were business-like and short.</p><p>He was spending more time outdoors, lining his garden and his walls with rows and rows of white chrysanthemums.</p><p>"<em>I don't know why I need this many,</em>" Herakles told her one morning as she joined him in admiring his handiwork. "<em>But seeing them gives me comfort.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Then that's all the reason you need,</em>" Corporal replied.</p><p>Together, they watched Astraios rise, scattering the dawn atmosphere orange, heralding a new day.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>tbc</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>やめてください！何も悪いことをしていない！ - Stop this! I haven't done anything wrong!<br/>私を放してください！誰か？！誰か助けて！ - Let go of me! Anybody? Anybody please help!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. i'll reward your restless heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A new era brings many changes. As one story ends, another begins.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Greek Independence Day! Ten years ago, this story came to an end. Ten years later, this humble remaster does, too! It was fun, oddly cathartic. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading!</p><p>🎵 Listening:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAx94jphfaY">Faded Paper Figures - Invent It All Again</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ra-0KDqbSyA">Tilly and the Wall - Falling Without Knowing</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Completely falling,<br/>Falling without knowing</em>
  </p>
</div><p> </p><p><span class="big"><span class="big"><span class="big">T</span></span></span>hey boarded the 11:06am train from the Tokyo Spaceport to Okinawa prefecture. The route involved three different train lines and six transfers but Herakles Karpusi, personification and Head of New Greece, was sure he and his humble group of twenty exchange students would arrive at their designated dormitory without getting lost. He had never seen clearer instructions on an Exchange Program Sheet.</p><p>Though it was a weekday, the trains weren't full and nothing was stopping them from looking like foreigners (aliens, really) and being stared at by fellow passengers. They were donned in eight layers of thick coats that were painted a dull fluorescent and hauled around four months' worth of luggage that had blinkers stuck to them so as to be seen by the locals. Herakles couldn't fathom how they could be missed though. They were twice as tall as the New Japanese and didn't glow at all (which was easier on the eyes; they were surrounded by enough light to make them visible) but without their coats, they'd freeze to death and people would think they were bumping into large, walking trees with long tails.</p><p>Out of all the nation-planets Herakles had already been to, New Japan was the most interesting yet.</p><p>The sky was perpetually pitch black and light emitted from everything on the land—the native flora, the landscape, the wildlife and even its people, who were rounded, fuzzy like peaches, had no toes and were only half their size. They were color coded, too. People glowed either white or lilac. Animals glowed shades of blue or red. The rest was a plethora of different lights. The climate was cold but not harmful. All the visiting New Greek scholars only needed incredibly thick clothing and dark shades (because all those lights simply blended into a glaring white if your eyes weren't built for filtering them) in order to walk around comfortably. Other nations had to have space suits, like New Venetians and New Chinese.</p><p>They alighted on the last stop and bowed in thanks to the station employee before wheeling out their bags onto the wide village road. The difference of the city from the prefectures was astounding. Aside from the distance between them, the lights of Tokyo were almost a painful glare compared to the soft glow of Okinawa.</p><p>It was a windy April afternoon. Despite what their watches and timetables said, it really felt more night than noon and a quiet one at that. The rural, traditional houses that shone a peaceful shade of mahogany could be counted in both hands. There was no one on the streets save for a few people at the nearby convenience store. What was particularly striking, however, were the rows of pink trees with thin, elegant branches that seemed to crawl upward into the black sky and shook with the slightest breeze, showering the grey ground in truly breath-taking lights.</p><p>"Like fireflies on a summer countryside evening," Herakles whispered, puzzled at the curious twinge of something in his chest, as though he wasn't a stranger to the sight.</p><p>"Oho!" his exchange students exclaimed in excitement. "It was just as they said in the EP sheet! We couldn't have come at a better time!"</p><p>"Sir?" one asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. "The lodgings are up ahead. Shall we walk?"</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>Up ahead was a moss green mountain rise, fronted by the Interplanetary Dormitory which stood significantly taller than any of the trees or buildings around it. It was one of the few facilities built for exchange students of their size and would serve as their home while they observed and studied the lifestyles and culture of the New Japanese.</p><p> </p><p>These twenty-person exchange programs were the most revolutionary brainchild of the New Council after the controversial resignation of the entire first Council two generations prior. Herakles could remember how different that meeting was. Like any major decision that had been made, all the Heads of the nation-planets had been asked to participate in a live chat session.</p><p>Herakles had logged in late, having returned from one of his regular city visits. Despite the lack of voice or face in the chat logs he read, it was clear that there was a palpable tension amongst the nations in discussion. Not that Herakles was supposed to read too much into it. Bad things happened the last time he read too much into things.</p><p>'Frankly, I'd say the experience must have been traumatic.' New Britain was saying.</p><p>'It was effective,' New Russia replied in a matter-of-factly sense. 'But still, I would never wish something like that on anyone, not even my worst enemy.'</p><p>'Did the Council really have a choice back then?' asked another nation. 'I mean, we were only starting out and we could only imagine how much work it was for them to keep the Satellite System stable. What could have happened if they actually met?'</p><p>'Still, it was a big price to pay, my friend,' New Spain interjected, grave and quiet despite being letters on the screen. 'Now that we're having this meeting, I don't think anyone here hasn't thought of wanting to see each other, or was sad that we're far away from each other.'</p><p>There was a solemn silence in the chat room. New Romano's user popped in and looked as if he was about to say something, but vanished soon after.</p><p>'At any rate, it's been a while,' New Germany said. 'Does anyone know how they've been doing?'</p><p>At that point, Herakles wanted to butt in and say he was doing alright and that it wasn't very nice to talk over his head as if they didn't see 'New Greece has joined the session' somewhere up there or like he was missing something big. Sure, at first he had been utterly sick and confused about what happened to him but over the years, he came to accept that what he had done was wrong (though there was a giant blank drawn every time he tried to remember what exactly his punishment was, well, after getting past the searing headaches).</p><p>'Pretty okay, actually,' New Turkey said. 'Which is terrifying.'</p><p>'I can say the same,' New China added. 'No relationship ever made is of a lesser value than others. Cutting off one will affect not only everyone but would change your entire person.'</p><p>'And that's a lot coming from you,' New Britain said.</p><p>'I may be older than any of you in spirit but that doesn't mean I'm not still learning.'</p><p>'In light of our discussions,' a representative of the Council said. 'We have decided to resign from our posts. The pressure to do so has been overwhelming since The Incident. We realize we have sorely miscalculated our actions. Only nations are meant to live this long.'</p><p>'We aren't leaving your Butterflies in the air so we can all learn from this,' New America stated.</p><p>'We understand.'</p><p>And with that, youth groups from each country had eagerly presented themselves as replacements, claiming reform was truly needed if they wanted the Satellite System to work efficiently.</p><p>The first thing they did was shut down the Shangri La and open all communication lines across all three hundred nation-planets. Actual space travel took longer to complete, with the multitude of species and atmospheric conditions to make provisions for. The exchange programs approved twenty scholars for interplanetary travel and the stays lasted from a couple of weeks to as much as a year, depending on what was agreed upon or what they wanted to learn. It was optional for the Nation Head to join them. Most did.</p><p> </p><p>Truth be told, when New Japan opened up slots for an exchange, Herakles found himself among the first to sign up. He didn't know why. Getting a schedule was hard enough, since his own country found itself increasingly busy accommodating its own sets of exchanges, New America, New Spain and New Egypt among the first few.</p><p>How should he describe meeting them?</p><p>He probably should have been more excited, and missed them more than he had, but for some mildly frustrating reason, all the reaction he could express were hugs tighter than those he usually gave and a comfortable warmth flitting across his shoulders that was almost a feeling he somehow had lost the name for.</p><p>Herakles wasn't dense. He knew he had lost something they considered important, that might have been important to Herakles himself if he felt it was. He saw it in the way New Spain acted like a nostalgic old man who insisted his students were fine on their own and that they should be eating and catching up with each other's lives (especially since he'd finally brought the crate of tomatoes he'd promised so long ago). He saw it in the way New America was fidgety around him, as if he were a survivor of some great calamity and needed constant tiptoeing about lest he'd get offended, not that Herakles really was. Feeling more of anything was something he couldn't do.</p><p>When New Egypt visited (looking like his canine counterpart), Herakles had been prepared to receive more sympathies (which were getting tiring, honestly). What he didn't expect was a dull gonging in his chest that began as he and his mayors waited for their arrival at the Santorini City Spaceport built on the shallow sea.</p><p>At first he thought it was one of his attacks, only this time a chest pain rather than a headache. It didn't hurt any less and was even growing stronger by the minute. It made his heart race and his stomach turn.</p><p>New Egypt was one of the few nation-planets with almost the same atmospheric conditions as his and so he was the first fellow nation Herakles actually hugged. It was only then, in that tight embrace, did the gonging inside him stop and he found tears welling in his eyes that he couldn't explain.</p><p>"Hassan, I—"</p><p>"It's good to see you, Herakles. It really is."</p><p>Herakles wondered why the thought of New Japan gave him this same painful longing and was drawn to going there more than ever. For the first time in a long time, he was scared.</p><p>The exchange was approved four months later, after New Egypt's stay ended. Corporal Cat had been watching him pack and she had the biggest smile on her face (if erin!ŋao could really smile, Herakles just knew she was happy).</p><p>"<em>Enjoy your stay there, Hera.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Thank you, Corporal. I will.</em>"</p><p>And she practically kicked him out the door.</p><p>"We're observing a high school in the area," one of the New Greek exchange students was saying. They were all gathered in the low-ceilinged dining hall of their dorm. They had nothing to do before dinner and decided to discuss the itinerary for the next day. "The principal said the students would be grateful for the experience. She said she sent a message to the mayor of Okinawa and hoped we'd get an audience with the Nation Head."</p><p>The table broke out in murmurs as Herakles stood to crank up the heater.</p><p>"Seriously? The Nation Head? That'd be awesome but…"</p><p>"Has anyone ever seen him?"</p><p>"We’ve heard from the exchange students who've been to New Japan before that he only saw with other Nation Heads. Upon special request, even."</p><p>Herakles could practically <em>feel</em> their gazes on the back of his neck. He sighed and turned to them with a weary smile. "Let's just see what tomorrow brings, alright? Remember, we're here to study their culture. Being treated as guests won't exactly help."</p><p>They visibly wilted like school kids denied a field trip. With the shake of his head, he added. "I'm going out for a walk. Go ahead and have dinner."</p><p>It was night time, according to Herakles' watch but the sky wasn't any different. He took a stroll along the residences near the dorm and watched as tiny lights escaped from the neat rows of shrubbery distinguishing one yard from the next.<br/><br/>Following with his eyes where the winding streets lead to, there was an immense traditional house shielded by foliage, but the wood that peeked through the glowing leaves was of a lighter shade that mahogany. It was also surrounded by the same elegant, pink trees they had seen on their way in. Another breeze shook loose a few blossoms and left them floating in the air. It was the prettiest thing Herakles had ever seen and made a mental note to ask what they were called.</p><p>He had never talked to New Japan. He hoped to meet him on this visit but knew not where he lived or how he'd be able to tell him apart from his people. His dealings with the nation were through the mayors and were brief and direct. His memories of him were as short, blunt and scattered, though something squirmed in his gut whenever Herakles tried to think about them, like the last embers of a burning tree.</p><p>It was indeed curious how he seemed to feel like he had been here before. The large traditional house almost seemed inviting, if not imposing, like a memory. Pulling his many coats tighter around him, he continued walking.</p><p>Steps carved out on a hillside interrupted the neat curve of road. The softly glowing stone must lead to a shrine or a temple, as Herakles heard that there were many about the country and its prefectures. As he contemplated climbing them, he heard a sound like excited cricket chirping and felt something small and fuzzy attach itself to his tail.</p><p>
  <em>(And there it was, hidden but sure. A dull gonging in his chest.)</em>
</p><p>Herakles turned around and found a tiny blue animal, reminiscent of an Earth dog, eagerly looking up at him with large, black eyes.</p><p>"Ah…"</p><p>"ぽち!" called a low male voice in what Herakles recognized as Japanese. <em>(The gonging increased, familiar and painful, resonating within his body in bronze waves.)</em> He saw a small, round man glowing lilac, jogging to catch up with it. "Pochi!" he repeated in English. "I'm very sorry, please excuse him."</p><p>Herakles gently pried the little animal from his tail and set it on the ground. It beamed at him. "Is he yours?"</p><p>"Yes," answered the man breathlessly, scooping it up in his arms. It made another happy cricket noise.</p><p>"He's very friendly," he said conversationally.</p><p>"I apologize," and the man bowed low.</p><p>"Oh! No need!" Herakles said, turning to him.</p><p>The man looked up and their eyes met. <em>(The gonging ceased and there was silence.)</em></p><p>A pearl colored butterfly passed between them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>END</strong>
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  <p><em>"Whatever happens now that I've changed<br/>No one will ever stand in our way<br/>We both sent the signal, it's been delivered<br/>A crashing cymbal rings out"</em><br/>— Falling Without Knowing, Tilly and the Wall</p>
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